Nothing like James
by EsperJones
Summary: AU What if Harry Potter was nothing like James? What if he had none of the Gryffindor bravery?


A/N: Made a bunch of changes based on the recommendation of a YahooGroup I posted it on.

Disclaimer: I'm well aware of the clichés. And none of it is mine, so you can't blame me for this!

--

Harry didn't know why he ran. Perhaps it was his inner nature to never face his fear; perhaps it was just his conditioning. After all, his father faced his fear head-on and what did he get for it? A swift death.

Weaving through the alley, and hearing the sounds behind him, Harry knew that he didn't have to run, and while a voice inside him was telling him not to run, to face up to the bullies, he couldn't help himself. While he had always been a touch above the rest of the boys in his class, he seemed to always be the one they tried to pick on. Just because he was a bit smarter, a bit faster, a bit… better. But kids are jealous of anything they can't understand, and Harry was never really liked by anyone.

As he continued running down the alley, he never noticed a grey tabby cat watching him from atop a dumpster.

--

"Professor, I was just visiting Harry…"

Minerva McGonagall was a woman in the middle of her life, but you could not call her old in any sense of the word. And while she was beginning to get a few gray hairs, she could be called a child next to the other occupant of the extravagant office she found herself.

"Minerva, how many times have I told you to call me Albus?"

Albus Dumbledore was a kind, benevolent wizard who looked like the Disney version of Merlin personified. While the tabloids kept labeling him manipulative and senile, his eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire whenever anyone tried telling him that to his face.

"You're the one who taught me my art, Professor. And will you stop beaming at me like that? I've come with a report on Harry Potter."

"According to all of my sources, he seems to be in perfect health. Placing him there has not been a mistake. Do you disagree?"

"Well, no…" Here Minerva paused, apparently unsure of how to continue. While her worst fears of the Dursleys were unfounded, she still had qualms over how young Harry was being raised.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

"No… But Mr. Potter doesn't seem to have shown any magic yet…"

"Very many children don't show any magic until they are admitted into Hogwarts. I must thank you for watching over Harry, but if he is treated well there, there is no reason to worry."

"You are right, Professor, as usual. By your leave?"

At Dumbledore's nod, Minerva left the office, but she still couldn't help but wonder how a boy that was supposed to be the child of two Gryffindors seemed to be nothing like either of them. While she couldn't judge him based on just that, she couldn't help but get a bad feeling.

--

If there's anything Harry liked, it would be lying back with a book. While he was frequently chased as a kid, if he climbed a tree, nobody would ever follow. After he stayed up on a tree for a few hours once, he realized he could be doing better things with his time, and brought a book with him wherever he went.

He got called a nerd whenever other kids saw the habit, but he never cared. Reading anything he could get his hands on, he quickly became enamored by times long ago, and while he enjoyed reading of mythical heroes and beasts, he never once wanted to step into their shoes.

His aunt and uncle didn't have any problems with him, and while they were a bit fussy with Dudley, he was never denied anything he needed. His clothes were bought secondhand, and he never had any of Dudley's toys, but he was used to that.

When he tried asking about his parents, they just went quiet, and while they didn't yell, it was obvious it was a sore topic with them. He learned quickly not to ask again, and clung to his only memory of his father. He never once thought why he was not in the memory he had, or why he couldn't remember anything of his mother.

--

At age 11, Harry had a visitor that introduced him to the world of magic. While she seemed to be a stern woman, she always seemed to look at him with a sad look, as if remembering times long past.

After the trip to Diagon Alley, he decided to ask about who his parents were, wondering if he would get a better answer than from his relatives.

"Your parents, Harry, were heroes to us all. They were killed by a very dark wizard, but when he tried to kill you, the curse rebounded and the wizard was vanquished. Nobody is sure why, but you are known as the Boy who Lived."

If she paid attention, she would have heard Harry muttering that if they were good people, they would have stayed and cared for him.

--

The ride to Hogwarts was a very peaceful one. Harry managed to get a compartment all to himself, and spent a few hours just reading the books that he brought. Sometime in the middle, a young girl with brown hair sat down and started reading in the same compartment as him, sneaking glances at him every few minutes.

When he finally broke down and asked her about it, she timidly said that she read about him.

"If you read about me, you should know that I don't like hearing about my parents. But you're welcome to stay if you just want to read."

Neither of them had much experience with friendship, but neither of them wanted to leave. They just quietly sat reading, pausing to change into their robes just before arrival.

--

As the Sorting Hat touched his head, he could hear a small voice inside his head.

"_Ah, young Mr. Potter. Your father's death touched you deeply, did it. There seems to be no question as to where to put you and so it must be _RAVENCLAW."

As the hat screamed the last word to the hall, Harry was happy he was to be placed with Hermione, and wondered if he would make his first friend.

--

The first year passed very quietly for Harry Potter. At Halloween, there was a disturbance involving a troll, but Harry and Hermione were sitting at the feast, and while Snape was limping for a week after the incident, nothing further happened.

As the students were enjoying their last feast under the green and silver hangings, Harry suddenly felt a sharp pain in his forehead, and when a few drops of blood fell out of his scar, he stumbled out of his seat and started walking to the exit.

"Potter!" The sharp voice of Professor Quirrell did not match up at all to the scared stutter that the students were used to him using, and he seemed to have a presence he never had in the classroom.

As Harry turned around, all the people at the head table could see his head bleeding, and it was Dumbledore that figured out the signs first. However, by the time he could turn around to the possessed DADA professor, he saw that Quirrell had already jumped out of his seat and encased himself and Harry in a golden cage.

"Look at me, Potter! Look at what I have become, because of you and your accursed mother. But… I am willing to spare your life, if you agree to join me. My power has grown due to the Elixir, but together we can do what I alone am still not capable of. With you on my side you can bring despair to the people that look to you as their saviour! Or do you wish to end like your father, sobbing and begging me not to kill him?"

While Harry just cowered in front of the wizard, his head bleeding, McHonagall's voice rang throughout the hall. "LIAR! James was more of a man than you'll ever be!"

"It seems that courage was not a trait passed down to the last Potter, then. You do not wish to even respond to me? Then die, Potter. You'll fall, and the one I marked as equal will be no more."

Harry continued looking at the floor, even as Quirrell cast a sickly green beam. The last thing Harry saw was blackness and lots of people screaming around him.

--

Waking up in the hospital was a new experience for Harry. The golden spectacles of Albus Dumbledore swam into place in front of him, and he could see a concerned look on the elderly wizard's face.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"I think so, sir. What happened?"

"It was unfortunate that Professor Quirrell seemed to be possessed by Lord Voldemort –" seeing Harry flinch at the name, Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "- And he had obtained the Philospher's Stone. But when he went to cast a spell at you, a miracle happened for the second time, and the curse rebounded. Voldemort is back to being a shadow of himself, Harry."

"But why did he attack me?"

"I can not know, but my guess would be that he grew overconfident with his success. I was the only wizard he feared before his downfall, and he believed that he could take me down with the power of the Stone. He was overconfident, but I believe that he had good reason – I could not stop him when he had the stone, as the Elixir give magical ability at a great cost. The stone is destroyed now, however, so he will have to find a new way to come back."

"Will he come after me again?"

"Unfortunately, he will. It seems you two are linked very closely, Harry. You were bleeding when he regained his power using the stone. I'm afraid that Lord Voldemort will not be able to resist coming after the one that foiled his plans, not once but twice."

"How long do I have, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed, and rubbed his brow. "None of us can be sure of that, Harry. But Voldemort is persistent. He will surely find another way to come back, and you need to realize that."

Harry just sat there, trying to process that the most feared Dark Lord of a century would be coming after him. He wondered how persistent that… man would be, and running seemed like a good option.

--

When Harry returned to the Dursleys, his relatives seemed to notice his depression, and tried asking him about it. He confessed everything that happened at the leaving feast, and while his relatives were disturbed, they started making plans for leaving as soon as they could.

In his room, however, Harry saw that there was an unexpected guest – a small, green, deformed creature that introduced himself as Dobby.

"Mister Potter must stay away from Hogwarts this year! His masters are planning evil things!"

As Dobby proceeded to hit his head on the wall, Harry told him that he had no intention of coming back to Hogwarts. As Dobby looked hopeful, Harry told him that the plans for leaving were already being made.

"Go far away, Mister Potter! Bad masters will…"

In the middle of his last word, Dobby vanished with a look of horror on his face. Wondering what that last message meant, Harry shrugged and just flopped on his bed, awaiting the call to leave.

--

The Dursleys and Harry Potter arrived in a small town in America, and were not disturbed for a whole month. While they saw many strange things, such as owls flying by in daylight, and odd lights in the sky, they mistakenly attributed that to the weirdness of the colonies…


End file.
